


You're My Head and You're My Heart

by beastofeden



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Humor, Erik has lots of feelings, M/M, Modern AU - Still Powered, Romance, Songfic, Telepathy, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastofeden/pseuds/beastofeden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Charles in an ethereal English singer and Erik is the man who broke his heart and inspired his first album. Can Erik make things right when he and Charles meet again three years later?</p><p>Inspired by Florence + The Machine's album 'Ceremonials'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Only If For A Night

**Author's Note:**

> So...this. This came from being incredibly obsessed with two things that I believe go together very well, like pretzels and peanut butter: Charles/Erik and Florence + The Machine. Ever since 'Ceremonials' was released (ok, two weeks before it was released when I downloaded the leak) I have been obsessively listening to the album and it just matches up SO WELL with our boys. I've seen a couple of songfics but I though that the whole album was perfect.  
> So then I had the image of Charles as this ethereal, Florence/Bowie-esque British soul-pop singer and this just kind of happened.  
> Every chapter will be a song from 'Ceremonials', in order of the album because I decided to make it hard for myself like that. If you'd like to read the chapters while listening to the songs then that is a FANTASTIC idea.  
> This is a WIP. I will try to get chapters out as often as possible, and I do have the entire story outlined, but I am still busy and lazy and smoke too much pot so...yeah, read at your own risk.  
> Also there will probably be an obnoxious amount of references to new York City and Brooklyn that people who don't live there won't get, so...sorry. Ask if you have questions.  
> Also, I'm writing all of "Charles'" songs myself so be kind...

_"But you came over me like some holy light_ , __

 _And although I was burning,  
_

 _You're the only light  
_

 _Only if for a night"_

_______

 

Raven is considerate enough to let him take a few sips of awful/glorious diner coffee before she gets to the reason she asked him out for breakfast.

 

“How would you like to be in a music video?”

 

Erik is not too surprised by the question. Raven is an up-and-coming stylist and she frequently works in the music industry. He’s actually played model for a day as a favor to her before. He twirls his finger idly and the spoon in his coffee disrupts the sugar at the bottom. He can feel each grain against the metal as they dissolve.

 

“Who’s music video?” Hopefully it’s for a band he’d actually like and listen too, although Raven knows enough eccentric performance artist types for him to be worried.

 

Raven sets her mouth in a firm line and tenses her shoulders, blue and bare after she’d shrugged off her leather jacket. He knows the pose, she is steeling herself for something. raven is incredibly stubborn, a trait he’s sure she learned from-

 

“Charles’”

 

He looks at her for what could be a full minute. Two, maybe. Their waitress arrives and sets down their plates. Neither of them move to start eating.

 

“Are you…” he shakes his head, _CharlesCharlesCharles_ ringing through it, “are you completely mental? Is this your idea of a joke, Raven? I don’t find it particularly funny.” He glares at her and is impressed when she doesn’t cower. His glare has been known to make small children cry and send adults scurrying away in abject terror. Raven hasn’t been afraid of him for years, possibly she never was. Raven can be pretty scary herself, when she wants to be. Once he had embarrassed her in front of a boy she’d had a crush on and in retaliation she had shifted into a naked Judi Dench and chased him around the roof of his old apartment on the Lower East Side. He still has nightmares.

 

Erik listens to Raven explain. Charles is shooting a music video for the first single from his upcoming album and wants to use all of his New York friends in it. He’d given Raven the job of rounding everyone up.

 

“OK, but I very much doubt that he included me in ‘everyone’, we haven’t spoken since…” he broke off because there was no need for him to say it, Raven knew.

 

A sad smile blossomed on Raven's face, so red against her midnight blue skin. He was struck by gratitude then, that Raven had stuck by him even after everything with Charles. He’d always assumed that as soon as he and Charles parted ways, especially considering the circumstances, Raven would cheerfully watch him get run over by the L train and post the pictures on her Instagram account, picking the perfect vintage filter to accent his bloody remains. But after the first year with Charles almost always gone touring, Raven had drifted back into his orbit. The only explanation he ever got being, “Someone has to look after you.” The _now that Charles is gone_ went without saying.

 

Raven began to eat her Eggs Benedict and he started in on his pancakes. “I really do think that you should come and be in the video. It’ll be so much fun. We’ll all dress up and get drunk and maybe you and Charles can, you know, talk and work your shit out.”

 

Erik gave her his ‘are you fucking serious’ expression.

 

“Are you fucking serious?” he choked out, in case the look hadn’t been enough, “You think that I should be in Charles’ music video and dance around and laugh like the fucking love of my life, who hates my guts, isn’t standing a few feet away wondering how many times his body guard can get away with punching me in the face?”

 

And then there was that twinkle in Raven’s eye, the one that he thinks might possibly be a genetic Xavier trait, and he realizes that he just referred to Charles as the love of his life.

 

“Oh, shut up, Raven.”

 

Her smile gets impossibly wider. Literally, impossibly. She’s making her mouth stretch far enough to touch her ears.

 

“Yes, I think you should come. You can see the LOVE OF YOUR LIFE,” the silverware on their table rattles, “and the rest of the old gang. Everyone will be there, Hank and Alex and Sean and Moira. Maybe even Angel and Emma. Azazel is coming with me, of course. He says he can’t stand Charles’ music but I’ve heard him singing ‘Peace Was Never an Option’ in the shower and anyway he adores Charles. He’ll probably drag Janos along with us.  I’ve emailed Logan, Marie, Jean, Ororo. The whole gang will be there, wouldn’t you love to see everyone?”

 

He would, oh god he would. He misses the people who were his first friends, the little family they had made for themselves. There was a slight problem with the happy picture Raven was painting.

 

 “But they all hate me. Just like Charles does.”

 

That sad smile was on Raven’s lips again and Erik hated it more and more every time he saw it. “They don’t hate you…well, Alex might…but Alex hates just about everyone, excluding Hank, and that’s only because Hank has sex with him. And Moira definitely does but you and Moira have always hated each other. It’s possible that Jean doesn’t like you, considering how much time she and Charles spent in each other’s minds those last few months…but I think you should come and see what happens. I know that they miss you and I know that you miss them.”

 

It was so incredibly tempting. He wanted to trade insults with Alex, laugh with Sean over Hank’s inability to ever stop being a nerd, shamelessly and harmlessly flirt with Angel, glare silently at Moira and drink beer in companionable silence with Azazel and Janos. And then there was _Charles_ …

 

God, the chance to be in the same room as Charles…to see him in person after three years without him. He dreams about Charles’ lips, so red against his pale skin.

 

The chance to hear Charles' singing with that incredible, magical voice, not through his headphones or his stereo but right there. To feel the touch of Charles’ mind as it expanded throughout the space he occupied. Erik would sometimes sit alone in his apartment at night and try to remember the indescribable sensation of Charles mind curling protectively around his, the essence of him winding itself through Erik until there was nothing between them. To feel that again, if only for one day, one night, one hour…

 

And then he thought about Charles’ eyes, those blue eyes so bright and sharp he’d felt that even without his telepathy, Charles would be able to look right through him. Erik had seen those eyes look at him with such tenderness, and joy, and darken with lust-

 

 _don’t think about that don’t remember hurts too much_

 

But the last time he’d seen Charles those eyes had shone with tears and been filled with so much anger and desperation, such overwhelming sadness. He couldn’t bear it if those eyes looked at him coldly, or worse, if there was nothing in them at all. It had been three years, surely Charles had forgotten all about him, or had at least been carefully nurturing his hatred, as Erik had done with his regret.

 

And what if Charles looked too deeply at his thoughts and saw how Erik still pined for him, how pathetic and obsessive and… _sad_ he was? The only thing that could be worse then Charles’ hatred (which Erik at least deserved and would stoically bear) was Charles’ pity (which he knew he could not).

 

“I’m sorry, Raven, I can’t.” She tried to argue with him but he quickly changed the subject and refused to let her change it back. The rest of their breakfast passed in awkward, stilted conversation.

 

When they left Raven kissed his cheek like she always did, her legs lengthening so to bring her face level with his. She gripped him in a tight hug and murmured, “Just think about it, Erik.”

 

The entire subway ride home, Erik couldn’t get Raven’s words out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. He attempted to distract himself by frightening tourists, standing completely still in the middle of the car, his powers keeping him anchored much better then holding onto the bar would, but he gets hardly any glances. People hardly paid attention to PDMs (public displays of mutation) anymore, thanks to…

 

And there he went again. _CharlesCharlesCharles_

 

His stop comes and the walk to his apartment so ingrained and automatic before he knew it he’s flicking the locks of his apartment open with a wave of his hand. He dropped his bag by the door, grabbed a beer from the fridge and slumped down on the couch, displacing a few books with his ass.

 

He calls his laptop to him with a gesture and plugs it into his speakers, opening the computer and pulling up his iTunes. There he is, in between Bruce Springsteen and Cold War Kids. Charles and the X-Men.

 

He selects their first album, _Evolution_ , and presses play. A slow and steady drum beat starts, a relentlessly reverberating bass line joining in moments after. The beat picks up and a guitar begins. The piano tinkles on, a harp trills and finally, finally there is Charles’ voice.

 _I wrapped my arms around you_

 _Swore I’d never let you go_

 _But now my arms are empty_

 _I fear you made it so_

He lies back on the couch and lets Charles’ voice lull him to sleep like it has so many times. It’s a pale, painful imitation of the nights when Charles’ would hold him close-

 

 _Swore I’d never let you go_

-and sing softly in his ear, but he takes what he can get.

 

 _I found you in the water_

 _And said you’re not alone_

 _I knew right from that moment_

 _You were meant to be my own_

________

 

The dream is the familiar because Charles is there and when he does dream Charles is _always_ there. But this dream has a hazy, glowing quality about it. Everything is pink and gold and glittering. He and Charles are standing in the park, the sun making the blue of Charles’ eyes shine dangerously. They are speaking but the words are muffled and Erik doesn’t know what they are saying but understands it, terribly, at the same time. Charles has a hazy, translucent quality, he’s ghostlike. The most vivid part of him is the blue of his eyes. They speak for what could be hours or moments and Erik knows, despite not being able to hear the words, that they are both pleading and weeping. As he's waking he swears he can hear Charles' voice in his head, as clearly as it used to be when Charles spoke in his mind.

 

 _Oh Erik, darling, how I miss you_

 

Erik reaches out a hand to him and the dream fades. Reality is there to greet him and he hates it.

 

Once he is coherent enough, Erik reaches for his phone and types a short, direct text to Raven, hoping that she will be too happy to gloat. All it says is, “Alright.” He knows she’ll get his meaning.


	2. Shake It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm surprised I got another chapter out so quickly. The few comments that have been left were very flattering and inspiring. I hope you enjoy this new chapter, where we see how Erik and Charles met. There is also a Marvel cameo!

 

 _“And I am done with my graceless heart_

 _So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart_

 _'Cause I like to keep my issues strong_

 _It's always darkest before the dawn”_

 _______________  
_

 

 **-FOUR YEARS AGO** -

 

 

They met when Charles was dancing, which was no surprise. Charles _lived_ to dance.

 

He was out with Hank, Alex and Sean. They’d put their smiles and Alex’s abs to the test (thank god for lecherous bouncers) and had somehow finagled their way into Don Hills, the current place to be if you were young and beautiful.

 

 _And they certainly are beautiful_ , Charles thought to himself. He would definitely be taking someone home tonight. It had been weeks (fucking midterms) and he desperately needed someone on top of him, under him, _inside_ of him.

 

The club was packed. It took about five minutes to shove through the bodies between the door and the bar. If Charles hadn’t had a generous helping of whiskey at Sean’s apartment an hour earlier he would have casually nudged the minds of those around them, easing them out of his path. But he didn’t like to rely on his telepathy when he was under the influence. His morals, loose as they already were, started to slip dangerously when he was inebriated.

 

He planned to be _very_ inebriated tonight.

 

Already he was starting to feel woozy. The whiskey plus the crush of intoxicated minds all around him was not overwhelming but it was certainly making him feel more than buzzed. Most of the people here were on something, thanks to Don Hills’ hip and youthful clientele and their lax (read: nonexistent) drug policy. The boy Charles was currently pushing against was smoking a blunt while bartering with a girl for some ecstasy.

 

Alex and Sean were already whispering into strangers' ears, trying to find something to get them going for night. Hank was doing his best disapproving expression but he’d take whatever Alex gave him and would probably be the one who ended the night attempting to climb buildings naked.

 

Charles never needed to actually consume anything when they went out, although he did occasionally enjoy the physical ritual of it all. He could simply open his mind to those around him and let their euphoria overwhelm him and drag him under. He slipped into the mind of the boy with the blunt they’d just passed and let himself enjoy the heavy, heady feeling the weed was slowly spreading through him. A girl about twenty feet away was tripping hard on LSD and Charles was tempted to take a peek for a moment, see the world through borrowed, chemically-altered eyes, but he refrained. For now.

 

The club was dark, hazy with smoke. A pervasive heat was being generated by the crush of moving bodies. He and his friends finally reached the bar and Charles, after a pleading look from Sean, got the bartender’s attention with a brief mental nudge. He caught a flash of interest when the bartender’s eyes found him and Charles was sure his interest was reflected right back. The man was tall, broad and well muscled, just the way Charles liked them.

 

He leaned onto the counter and gave his order, grinning suggestively all the while. Charles was buzzed enough to rationalize peeking and he wasn’t disappointed with what he found. The bartender, who offered the name Thor (Charles bit back a giggle) when he handed over the thee drinks, was _definitely_ interested. He was taking in Charles’ lips, the pale expanse of his throat, the lean figure Charles’ tank top emphasized. Charles let his own interest show plainly on his face and Thor’s grin grew wider. Charles let himself imagine bringing Thor to his apartment, the larger man tossing him roughly onto his bead and fucking into him, a harsh, unrelenting rhythm like the beat of a drum. Charles could hear the beat in his head, feel it in his veins.

 

Charles handed the boys their drinks and took the offered shot with the bartender, leaving him with a sly nod and a promise to return. If he didn’t find someone he liked better (and with a glance back at those arms he knew he probably wouldn't), Charles would most certainly be taking Thor home tonight.

 

He followed his friends from the noisy bar area to the noisier dance floor. All of the tables were full of those who felt too cool dance but still wanted to be seen. About 70% of them were wearing black. No one here was older than 25 and just about everyone was attractive, the doormen were fairly discerning.

 

Charles moved into the crowd, not looking back to see if his friends were following. They would need a bit to let their drinks and drugs kick in before they joined the fray, but Charles just needed to get to the center of the crowd and start dancing.

 

First he let the music wash over him, his hips finding the beat. It was a track by the Bloody Beetroots, an electronic band he’d seen a few times at Webster Hall and thoroughly enjoyed, and the beat was harsh and unrelenting. Charles gave himself over to it, raising his arms in the air. He moved for a few moments, simply enjoying the freedom of being young and happy and _alive_.

 

And then he opened that deeper part of himself and let it free.

 

Under the flashing lights, with the bass pounding in their ears and the chemicals running through their systems, there was little coherent thought. Snatches of-

 

 _love this song_

 _look at him I’d fuck_

 _best shit I’ve had since_

 _ow my foot_

 _so gooooood_

-but mostly there was _sensation_. All at once he was one in a crowd and at the same time the crowd itself. A mass of flesh and sound and pleasure. He felt vibrantly and gloriously present. For this one blissful second that felt like infinity, everything else that was wrong in the world fell away. It rolled over him and his breath grew heavy, his body thrummed with energy and he grew painfully, achingly hard in his tight jeans.

 

He let it all wash over him for a few moments before reeling himself back in. He felt as though he’d had a few more drinks, several pulls off a joint, a tab of ecstasy and possibly a few lines of cocaine. He breathed deeply, the feeling gradually fading and becoming slightly less overwhelming. He was now at a level of fucked-upness that he’d only need to replenish a few more times that evening. He danced, shaking off the long week of schoolwork and presentations (a double major in genetics and music was something that no one should ever again attempt), his parent’s expectations, the argument with Raven, trying to write a song that wasn't utter shit. He let everything go and let himself simply _be_.

 

Grinning maniacally and still shaking to the beat, Charles now allowed himself to flit from mind to mind individually. His friends were a few feet away. Alex carefully rolling a cigarette while Hank fought the urge to lecture him about the dangers of smoking and Sean shook hands with a cute punk girl, then discreetly passing the two other pills she’d given him to the Hank and Alex, taking the third himself. Charles’ mind spun away from them and hovered over a girl who was watching the lights above them stretch and spin and change colors. Charles sunk into her mind and delighted in watching with her for a several moments before moving on to-

 

Oh.

 

Oh.

 

Oh _god_.

 

He had never felt a mind like this. Rigidly structured and full of passion and intelligence and, god, _power_. Charles had felt the minds of mutants before, powerful ones, but nothing like this. This mind was made of metal and it positively thrummed with nearly inexhaustible strength. Charles couldn’t help himself from going deeper, faster. He didn’t even realize that he’d stopped dancing and was standing still in the center of the crowd.

 

This was _Erik Lehnsherr_ and he was 21, studying architecture at the New School. He was had a deep-seated distrust of non-mutants and lived in a loft in Bushwick that he shared with two other boys who were both mutants…one of them had a prehensile tail and could teleport. Erik had been born in Germany and had seen his mother die, terribly. Erik’s favorite book was _Brave New World_ but was really _To Kill a Mockingbird_ and he had a friend named Emma who enjoyed nothing more than teasing him mercilessly whenever she could.

 

All of this Charles knew in an instant, this and more. In a single moment that lasted the breadth of infinity he saw who Erik Lehnsherr was, really truly was at his very core.

 

Charles knew that love at first sight existed to a degree. He’d seen it in people’s memories, seen how they had met the person they loved and had just _known_ instantly.

 

This felt a bit like that.

 

He was so deep in Erik’s mind that he felt the panic almost before Erik was consciously aware of it. The other boy had taken a few pills his roommate had given him and he was starting to have an adverse effect. His breath was becoming labored and his chest was tightening. The bodies around him seemed to be closing in, it felt like he was drowning. In a few second he would lose his footing and fall-

 

Charles moved on instinct, lashing out at the minds standing in his way and forcing them to move until a path the exact size of his body was cleared. When he saw Erik for the first time it was from behind. He had no time to appreciate the tall, muscular build, the firm ass in tight black jeans. Erik was already starting to loose his balance and Charles put on a burst of speed and suddenly he was there, wrapping his arms around Erik and speaking into his mind

 

 _I’ve got you_

 _calm your mind_

 _you’re not alone, I’ve got you_

 

The other boy turned in his arms and looked at Charles with wide, expressive eyes.

 

 _you’re in my head_

 _can’t think straight_

 _eyes, so blue_

 _need to get out_

“Come one, I’ve got you,” Charles speaks into the shell of Erik’s ear. The other boy shivered and Charles, despite his worry, felt ridiculously excited.

 

He sent a quick message to his friends that he had to run out and he may or may not be back. They are used to his sometimes-erratic behavior, always chasing after minds (and bodies) that intrigue him and send him off with a mental wave.

 

Charles wrapped his arm around Erik, keeping him steady and gently creating a path for him. He ‘s stone cold sober now, having given himself the mental equivalent of a bucket of water to the face. _Or maybe_ , he thought, looking sidelong at Erik, _like jumping into a freezing cold sea_. He feels adrift and barely able to hold onto boy at his side.

 

Charles filed that line of thought away for later, it could be a good base for a song. Already there’s music working it’s way through his head, music that, if he’s honest, started the moment he found Erik’s mind in the crowd.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So...thoughts?


End file.
